Christmas in July
by evitamockingbird
Summary: AU mistletoe fic silliness. Takes place at the end of Lady Rose's debut season. S4 SPOILERS.


**This is a silly little AU prompted by someone's call on Tumblr for mistletoe-themed fics. It's been appearing in dribs and drabs over the last few weeks and I wasn't even sure it would come to anything, but it's come to an end, if nothing else. It's AU, because it takes place at the end of Lady Rose's Season in London, but the staff have been separated like the usually are - butler, underbutler, footmen, valet, and lady's maids in London and the rest back at Downton. It's also AU because although I believe both Lady Mary and Mrs. Patmore capable of a good bit of scheming, I don't know that I could see them working together. So enjoy this bit of fluff with a grain of salt.**

Mrs. Patmore had read a few pages and then dozed off for a while when she heard the back door close loudly. Looking at the clock, she laughed to herself as she got up from the armchair in Mrs. Hughes's sitting room and ambled into the quiet corridor.

"Back so soon, Mrs. Hughes? Did you forget something?" she called out. The family was not expected back from London until the following day, so Mrs. Patmore was very surprised to find herself face-to-face with Lady Mary Crawley.

"Hello, Mrs. Patmore," Lady Mary greeted her. "Is Mrs. Hughes not here?"

"No, milady, I'm afraid she's gone to the village," Mrs. Patmore answered. "But we weren't expecting you until tomorrow."

"I came back a day early. I'm surprised Carson forgot to telephone and let you all know."

Mrs. Patmore smiled. "Well, I'm sure Anna and I can get you sorted in no time. Would you like a tea tray sent up now, milady, or will you ring for it later?"

"Anna's not with me, but I'd like tea now and I'd like to take it down here. Mrs. Hughes won't mind my using her room, will she?"

Mrs. Patmore followed Lady Mary into the sitting room, perplexed by this unusual turn of events. "No, she won't, but would you not be more comfortable elsewhere?"

Lady Mary sank into the armchair Mrs. Patmore had recently vacated and sighed, closing her eyes and slipping off her shoes.

"Are you quite well, milady?"

"Yes, quite well, Mrs. Patmore. Only I walked from the station and it's rather a hot day. I won't disturb you long, but I don't think I could go another step without a rest," she said.

Mrs. Patmore's eyebrows shot up, but then she just shrugged slightly. "Tea it is, then."

#####

Lady Mary made little sounds of approval at the arrival of tea tray, but she stopped Mrs. Patmore before she could leave.

"Mrs. Patmore, could you stay for a moment?" she said, taking a bite of a sandwich.

"Is there something else I can fetch you, milady?"

"No, I'd like to talk to you about something," Lady Mary answered. "I was going to ask Mrs. Hughes, but I imagine you've known Carson as long as she has, so you may be able to help just as well as she could."

"As it happens, I've been at Downton a few years longer than Mrs. Hughes, milady," said a now thoroughly confused Mrs. Patmore.

"Excellent! Now do sit down, Mrs. Patmore. This could take some time."

"Oh, I don't think I should, milady," the cook said. "Mr. Carson wouldn't like-"

"Carson would be shocked, of course, but I promise I won't tell him." Mrs. Patmore wasn't sure what to say, but was mightily curious, so she lowered herself into a chair. "Oh, before I forget, Carson gave me this letter for Mrs. Hughes. He had forgotten to post it for several days and didn't think it would be worth the trouble of sending, so I told him I'd carry it here for him." Lady Mary took a letter from her reticule and laid it on the table beside her.

"That's not why you've come home early now, is it?" Mrs. Patmore asked.

Lady Mary laughed. "No, it isn't." She paused. "You'll think me rather strange for this next question, I daresay. Tell me, Mrs. Patmore, have you ever seen Carson in love?"

Mrs. Patmore choked. "Mr. Carson? In love?" She felt rather uneasy all of a sudden. Whatever she had expected when she'd discovered that Lady Mary Crawley had walked through the servants' entrance of Downton Abbey unaccompanied by a soul, it certainly hadn't been_ that_. She would have to speak very carefully. "I don't know if I could rightly say, milady. Even if Mr. Carson were in love, I'm not sure I would know what such a thing looked like."

Lady Mary found this very amusing. "I can well imagine. He probably finds love rather undignified. But in all the years you've worked with him, have you never seen him take an interest in a woman in the village?"

"I can't say that I have," Mrs. Patmore answered honestly.

"The truth is that I'm worried about Carson," Lady Mary went on. "He was behaving in an odd manner all Season and I formed the probably rather foolish suspicion that he was suffering lovesickness of a sort. But you say there's no one in the village, and I know Carson better than to think he's mooning over one of the maids at Downton."

"Perhaps someone he corresponds with?" Mrs. Patmore said, without thinking. She immediately caught herself and tried to smooth it over by laughing at herself. "But that's just as foolish a notion as Mr. Carson taking on with one of the housemaids!" She met Lady Mary's clear gaze and wished she hadn't.

A wrinkle appeared on the younger woman's brow. "That wouldn't quite explain Carson's behavior in London when he was perfectly well before we left Yorkshire, though. If he was mad over some woman he only wrote letters to, he would be acting strangely all the time, not just in London." Mrs. Patmore's heart sank when she saw signs of comprehension on the lovely face of the woman in front of her. Lady Mary's eyes widened a little before her gaze moved from Mrs. Patmore to the letter she had just laid on the table and then back again. There was no doubt that she understood.

Lady Mary rose from her seat and Mrs. Patmore followed suit. "Thank you for the tea and the chat, Mrs. Patmore," she said. "I'll be going upstairs now. I'll ring if I need anything, but I'm just going to have a bath now."

"Very good, milady. I'll inform Mrs. Hughes you've arrived just as soon as she returns."

Lady Mary nodded and then paused in the doorway. "And be sure she gets Carson's letter."

#####

"You say she _walked_ from the station?" Mrs. Hughes asked in disbelief.

"Indeed she did, Mrs. Hughes. I was that surprised, I can tell you. I wonder you didn't see her coming as you left."

Mrs. Hughes smiled mischievously. "Well, I did take the long way to the village."

"The long way?" Mrs. Patmore asked skeptically.

"Yes, you know, through the rose garden and round the little pond."

The cook laughed. "Well, that explains why you didn't meet her as she walked home."

"And without Anna, or any luggage! Well, I'm going up to see her, whether she rings or not. I expect she's out of the bath by now."

"I should say so."

"It's odd that Mr. Carson didn't telephone," Mrs. Hughes mused.

"That's just what Lady Mary said," Mrs. Patmore agreed. "Oh, before I forget, she brought a letter for you from Mr. Carson. It's on the table in your sitting room."

Mrs. Hughes's brow wrinkled. "How very odd. He'll be home tomorrow."

"It seems he forgot to post it, but when Lady Mary announced her plans, he asked her to bring it to you."

The housekeeper nodded, then shrugged. "Well, I'll be off, then. I'll be back with instructions, I'm sure."

#####

Lady Mary was sitting at her vanity table combing out her wet hair when there came a knock at the door. "Come in!" she called. Mrs. Hughes entered.

"I didn't ring, Mrs. Hughes," Lady Mary said. "You needn't trouble yourself with me. I'm quite all right on my own for an afternoon."

Mrs. Hughes smiled. "I'm sure, milady, but I wanted to speak with you all the same."

Lady Mary sighed, her shoulders slumping wearily. "You want to know why I ran home to Yorkshire without a maid or any luggage, I suppose."

"Well, yes, milady. Is something wrong?" Mrs. Hughes asked, concerned.

"London was…" Lady Mary struggled for words. "Overwhelming. There were balls and parties constantly, and Lady Rose was beside herself with the excitement of it all. And I received a bit of attention myself which was…"

"Unwelcome, milady?" Mrs. Hughes suggested.

"The attention itself wasn't unwelcome," Lady Mary said. "But it was relentless, and seemed to come at me from every direction." She winced as she snagged her comb in a tangled lock of hair. "I couldn't stay any longer. It was foolishness perhaps. One more night wouldn't have made much difference."

Mrs. Hughes gently removed the comb from the younger woman's fingers and began to carefully work the tangles out of her wet mane. "It doesn't sound foolish to me, milady. From what I hear, there was a great deal more excitement than even in the wildest of the Crawleys' past Seasons."

Lady Mary sighed again. "Well, that's certainly true."

"And it's your first Season back in London for a few years. It only makes sense that you might feel a little overpowered." She continued her work on Lady Mary's snarled locks. "You might have brought Anna with you, though. I'm sure she wouldn't have minded."

Lady Mary smiled. "I thought about it, but I decided to leave her with her husband. And I believe her ladyship will have need of Anna tonight and tomorrow. I knew I could fend for myself in this house for a day. Although it seems perhaps not as well as I thought I could, if this is the state of my hair after a simple bath. Thank you, Mrs. Hughes."

"I'm glad to help, milady. I hope a bit of solitude will freshen you up for tomorrow's homecoming."

"But you must have loads to do for tomorrow," Lady Mary said. "I can finish with the comb."

"There isn't much to be done at the moment, milady," Mrs. Hughes said, not relinquishing the comb. "Anyway, I'm nearly finished."

Lady Mary gave in silently and closed her eyes. The housekeeper was efficient with the comb, as Anna was, but there was an extra sort of reassurance that Mrs. Hughes seemed to exude that Lady Mary had never noticed before. Most of the time she would have chosen Anna over anyone else, but on this one day she was glad that the older woman had been about to listen to her talk of the madness of London and calmly take care of her knotted hair. She sighed in contentment and spoke without thinking. "I can see why Carson has been so tied in knots since we left for London."

"Milady?" Mrs. Hughes said, perplexed. She finished with the last tangle and took up a brush, drawing it genly through Lady Mary's long hair.

"You're a very calming influence, Mrs. Hughes," Lady Mary said, thinking quickly and opening her eyes. "If Carson is used to having you around all the time I can see why being without you for several months could set his teeth on edge," she said, satisfied by her reflection that her expression didn't give away her curiosity.

"I'm sorry to hear Mr. Carson's not been himself," Mrs. Hughes said, brushing slowly.

"You and he must be great friends after so many years working together, though I suspect Carson doesn't let you comb his hair." Lady Mary couldn't explain what devil had nudged her on, but she was not rewarded by any significant reaction from Mrs. Hughes, who only smiled at her comment. "I think you've taken care of my wild hair quite well, Mrs. Hughes. Thank you. Can you ask Mrs. Patmore for a tray of sandwiches for my dinner tonight?"

"Of course, milady," Mrs. Hughes answered, laying the brush down. "What time would you like your tray?"

"About eight o'clock, I think," Lady Mary said.

"Very well, then."

Mrs. Hughes walked down the corridor shaking her head. She thought she could grow fond of Lady Mary, under the right circumstances, but she was still rather unpredictable to Mrs. Hughes. And what nonsense had she been talking about Mr. Carson being relaxed by her presence? She knew she provoked him as often as not. Mrs. Hughes had never previously indulged in any fantasies involving combing Mr. Carson's hair, but thanks to Lady Mary she had a feeling she might find herself doing just that as she fell asleep tonight. She tried to push the image from her mind, but was entirely unsuccessful. Mrs. Hughes knew that he used a fair quantity of some barber's concoction to hold it ruthlessly in place, so in reality running her fingers through his hair might not be as pleasant as she imagined. Still, her fingers wriggled at her sides even as she made her way down to the kitchen, reaching, in her mind's eye, for that one most tempting curl of his that she had only seen on occasions when he was disheveled or too ill to slick it back. She felt a ghost of Lady Mary's comb between her fingers and imagined herself drawing it through Mr. Carson's curls as he sat at his desk late at night. She heard him breathe a deep, contented sigh and murmur her name.

A crash from the kitchen jerked Mrs. Hughes from her daydream, the imaginary comb flying from her fingers. She sighed in relief at having come back to reality before Mrs. Patmore appeared. She wouldn't fancy trying to explain herself to the cook. Mrs. Hughes was impatient for the next day, when the household would be full again. Her little fantasies occurred more frequently during the Season, especially just before Mr. Carson returned. These daydreams were far from unpleasant, but Mrs. Hughes preferred to have the man himself beside her, even if she could never touch him as she did in her imaginings. Perhaps one day she would, but she hadn't the slightest idea when or if that day would come. Tomorrow, however, he would be home and she couldn't wait.

#####

_Dear Mrs. Hughes,_

_Lady Rose has had an eventful, though ultimately successful, coming out. The staff is now preparing for our return to Yorkshire and I will admit I am relieved it is almost over. This Season has been particularly tiring and irksome, to be quite honest. I can't explain it, but so many little things seem to go wrong and I often find myself in an ill humor. It is perhaps best that you are not here, for I'm sure you wouldn't approve of my manner toward the footmen and maids. Fear not, however, Mrs. Hughes. I can hear your scolding voice in my head when I am taking them to task, and I believe it calms me a little. I am the same cantankerous fellow you well know, but your influence has made me very slightly more merciful than I might have been on my own._

_Mrs. Hughes, I am beginning to get the suspicion that you'd like to be rid of me. A few Seasons ago you asked me once if I'd considered retirement. Last Season you encouraged me once or twice to think about it. But this Season, your every letter contains some mention of how very weary I must be of the annual trips to London and how tiresome it must be to leave Yorkshire every year for several months of keeping unfamiliar staff in order. Do you wish me to retire to a cottage on the estate so that I will not be a constant irritation to you? Perhaps you think Mr. Barrow might be an improvement as butler? You have caught me in a moment when I will admit that I would gladly give up the Season. If his lordship released me from this particular portion of my job and allowed me to stay in Yorkshire all year, it would be quite literally like Christmas in July. A trip to London for a few days is perfectly delightful, but I am weary of the travel and the bustle and the disruption. Downton runs so smoothly, but Grantham House is something else entirely. We manage everything well, but downstairs it seems like chaos to me. It is almost sheer luck that this season was such a success. In spite of all of this, however, I don't think I will be retiring any time soon. A cottage might be readied for me and made quite homelike, but how could anything be more home to me than that pantry where I've spent the last several decades? Someday I will_ have_ to retire, Mrs. Hughes, and you must promise to come take tea with me occasionally, even when I'm quite an old man._

_And what about you? You'll remind me, I am quite sure, that you are younger than I, but you are not immortal, and someday you must retire yourself. Will you take the cottage next to mine? Perhaps then we can meet every day for tea or wine or sherry as we do now. I think that could make retirement much more tolerable, don't you? I can't imagine you relish the idea of sitting all day alone in a cottage any more than I do. Perhaps I'm warming to the idea of retirement, after all, but only with the condition that you retire as well. Then things wouldn't be so different from how they are now. It is a comforting thought._

_You may expect us all on the 11:00 train, when we shall descend upon you like locusts; very well-dressed locusts, but locusts nonetheless. Nothing like Christmas in July, I'm afraid, in spite of the pageantry. I wish I could return a day early as I have in years past, but it simply was not possible. I will see you at luncheon._

_Sincerely yours,_

_C. Carson_

Mrs. Hughes smiled as she folded up the letter. _Daft, teasing man_. He had obviously been in quite a mood when he had written that letter - his tone was somehow simultaneously both discontented and jocular. She hoped he would feel better once he was back at Downton. She would do her best to soothe his frayed nerves and try not to provoke him too much. The image of him sitting relaxed in his pantry while she combed his hair sprang to her mind once again. _Certainly not_, she told herself, dismissing it. There were plenty of ways to soothe him that were not in the least improper. Mostly it was just a matter of sitting down with him and listening to his stories, and speaking when he wanted to hear what she had been up to while he was away. She could and would do that much, and with great pleasure. She loved to hear him speak, and always missed his voice when he was away. What a treat tomorrow would be.

#####

Mrs. Patmore sat at her little table in the kitchen, her tea finished, her kitchen maids chattering as they put together Lady Mary's dinner tray. She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket. She had been avoiding reading Mr. Carson's instructions since Mrs. Hughes had given them to her earlier, but she thought she had better take a look so she could be ready for tomorrow._ Nothing complicated_, Mrs. Hughes had assured her. She unfolded the paper and began to read, but within seconds she could see that this was not the list of instructions Mrs. Hughes must have meant to hand her. Mrs. Patmore stopped reading and folded the letter, but curiosity got the better of her and she opened it again and read on.

#####

Mrs. Patmore had hoped she could make it upstairs with the tray without being noticed by Mrs. Hughes, but she failed.

"Mrs. Patmore, surely you're not taking Lady Mary's dinner try upstairs yourself!" the housekeeper said.

"I am, Mrs. Hughes," she answered. "There's something I'd like to discuss with Lady Mary and I may not ever have another chance."

Mrs. Hughes made a skeptical face. "Is that so?"

Mrs. Patmore nodded and lowered her voice. "There was this one morning, you see, when Ivy told me she had come down to the kitchen and found Lady Mary and a young man, both covered in mud, eating scrambled eggs and drinking wine. I've always suspected Ivy might have invented that story."

Mrs. Hughes was skeptical, but she nodded. "I suppose you think it might be less embarrassing for Lady Mary if you ask her for the truth now, when no one else is around?"

"Yes, exactly," Mrs. Patmore said, smiling. "I don't think she'll mind having the cook in her room just this once. She did come in through the servants' entrance this afternoon."

Mrs. Hughes just shook her head. "Do what you will, Mrs. Patmore. I'll be in my sitting room."

The cook headed up the stairs to deliver the meal and try to navigate a difficult conversation. Lady Mary was indeed surprised that it was Mrs. Patmore carrying the tray, but she soon found out why.

"I'm sorry to push in, milady," Mrs. Patmore began, standing as tall as her small frame allowed. "But I very much wish to discuss what passed between us earlier today."

Lady Mary nodded in comprehension. "Mrs. Patmore, you need not fear me. I care very much for Carson's welfare and happiness."

"I could see you'd guessed his secret, milady, and I should hate to feel I was responsible for one or both of my friends being sacked."

"Sacked!" Lady Mary exclaimed. "Why should anyone be sacked?"

"Romantic relationships below stairs are frowned upon, milady."

"But things are changing, Mrs. Patmore, and you must know how highly the Crawleys regard Carson and Mrs. Hughes." She paused. "So, does he love her?" Lady Mary asked softly.

Mrs. Patmore sighed. "I believe he does."

"And Mrs. Hughes? Do you know how she feels?"

"Oh, she loves him. She's never said as much, but I feel quite certain of it. It's a little painful to watch at times," Mrs. Patmore finished quietly.

Both women were silent for a while, before Mrs. Patmore spoke again, very hesitantly.

"Milady, I have an idea, but it's rather mischievous."

Lady Mary's eyes lit up. "Oh?"

Mrs. Patmore drew the letter out of her pocket. "Yes. You see, I find myself in possession of the letter you carried here for Mrs. Hughes. She handed it to me by accident, thinking it was a list of instructions for Mr. Carson."

"And you read it." Lady Mary's eyebrows rose.

"I tried not to, but I'm ashamed to say that I did read it."

"And it was a love letter? A declaration of some sort?"

"Certainly not," Mrs. Patmore scoffed. "But the tone of the letter was comfortable, perhaps even intimate, and there was some mention of Christmas in July."

Lady Mary wrinkled her brow, deep in thought. "Will you allow me to see this letter?" she asked.

"No, milady, I'm afraid not. I've already broken a confidence several times over by reading it and then mentioning it to you. But you know I only have my friends' best interests at heart."

Lady Mary nodded in understanding. "Very well. But you've not told me of this mischievous idea. I'm dying of curiosity."

Mrs. Patmore's face broke into a smile. "Well, it seems Mrs. Hughes has been trying to talk Mr. Carson into retiring, since the annual trip to London is sometimes rather tiresome for him. His response, in this letter, is quite interesting and, to me, quite revealing."

"And what is it you want to do?"

"It's a silly idea, really," Mrs. Patmore said. "But I could use your help, milady, if you don't think it too improper."

"We'll be careful, Mrs. Patmore," Lady Mary said, her eyes twinkling. "But I think a woman needs a little improper attention now and then from the man she loves."

#####

A Season that included a coming out ball for Lady Rose MacClare required much more luggage than an ordinary Season, which made the next day's homecoming quite an affair, both upstairs and downstairs. The cars arrived shortly after 11:00, as Mr. Carson had promised in his letter, but it was several hours before everything was sorted. Mr. Carson's usual routine of returning a day before the family had been disrupted, and he felt the loss of this extra day, both for returning and unpacking some of the trunks, and for spending a little extra quiet time with Mrs. Hughes and catching up on her news. They exchanged letters, of course, but he always looked forward to seeing her again, and to what had become their traditional chat over tea, as soon as he could make himself free.

In the middle of the afternoon, Mr. Carson was finally at leisure for their little coze, and he was glad to find her at her desk when he knocked on her sitting room door.

"Tea in my pantry, Mrs. Hughes?" he asked, smiling.

She smiled back into his eyes. "Certainly, Mr. Carson. I'll ask Ivy to fix us a tray."

"No need," Mr. Carson said. "I've already done that. And here it is!"

Ivy was making her way down the hall with a tea tray and Mrs. Hughes took it from her. "Thank you, Ivy," she said, releasing the girl back to the kitchen, following Mr. Carson to his pantry, and setting the tray down on his table. She was the first to notice it.

"Mr. Carson, what on earth…?" she said, looking up at the ceiling.

He followed her gaze and started. "You don't think I had something to do with that, do you? Who's been in here while I've been gone?"

"No one but me, that I'm aware of, and just to answer the telephone when it rings," she said. "Of course that leaves the door open sometimes, but I would have noticed a sprig of mistletoe as soon as it appeared."

Mr. Carson looked at her doubtfully. "Then it was placed there this morning?"

Mrs. Hughes shrugged. "We'll ask one of the boys to take it down."

"Perhaps in a little while."

She looked up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

He eyed her speculatively and, she thought, a little mischievously. "Might it not be bad luck if we stood under the mistletoe but did not obey its command?"

Mrs. Hughes thought no such thing, but she played along. "I didn't know you were superstitious, Mr. Carson," she teased.

"I'm not, Mrs. Hughes," he answered, moving closer. "But perhaps I should be."

"I'd have thought you'd be more concerned about the propriety of the thing than any amount of bad luck," she said, a gleam of challenge in her eye.

"You needn't worry, Mrs. Hughes," he said. "Your good name is safe with me. How could propriety be offended by a little kiss on the cheek between friends? And we'd be avoiding any possible bad luck at the same time."

Mrs. Hughes looked up at him skeptically. The mischief in his eyes had changed into something she couldn't quite identify, although it didn't seem quite how one would look at a friend whose cheek one was about to kiss. "Very well," she said. "Do your worst."

Mr. Carson bent down and brushed his lips over Mrs. Hughes's cheek. The devil on his shoulder pointed out to him that it was only a few inches from her cheek to her ear, and just a few more to her lovely neck, but he stayed his course, and pulled away after lingering no longer than he deemed appropriate. However, as he was straightening back up, he made the mistake of looking at her face. Her eyes were closed and her breath came rapidly. The devil didn't need to speak anymore. Mr. Carson kissed her cheek once more and then moved his lips to her ear. When he began to nibble her earlobe, she gasped in surprise and he froze, wondering if he should stop, but she slid her arms up his chest and around his neck. Mr. Carson's arms quickly wrapped around her waist, and he abandoned her ear and sought the prize he had dreamed of for years, her lovely lips. She kissed him hesitantly at first, but gradually she became more eager, opening her mouth so that they might taste one another. They were both so wrapped up in these new sensations that they didn't hear the door gently open.

"Carson, I wonder if you could-"

Butler and housekeeper sprang apart, but it was far too late. Lady Mary had seen everything, so there was no pretending it had not happened. But she only smiled and touched a finger to her lips. "Your secret is safe with me, I assure you," she said. "But I wouldn't expect the same from the others, so you had best wrap up this… conversation… within the next few minutes."

Mr. Carson was standing at attention, trying to conceal the embarrassment he felt at being caught out in such a compromising position. "Is there something I can do for you, milady?" he asked stiffly.

"No, thank you, Carson," she answered. "I've just realized that it's really Mrs. Patmore I needed to speak with." And with a nod, she was gone, closing the door behind her.

Mr. Carson quickly made his way to the door and locked it. "Mrs. Hughes, I'm very sorry. I'm not quite sure how or why I-"

"Stop," she commanded, and he was silent. "Tell me it meant nothing and I shall know how to act," she began. "But if it meant something to you, I want to know. It needn't be a declaration of love or a proposal of marriage or anything of that sort. But if it meant more than nothing, please tell me." Mrs. Hughes's voice had grown softer as she continued, but her gaze still pierced him from across the room.

"It was all of those things," Mr. Carson said quietly.

"What?" Mrs. Hughes said, eyes wide.

"Well, except the 'nothing' part," he said, smiling a little and moving towards her again. "It was most definitely not nothing."

"Then it was-"

"I love you, Elsie."

"And-"

"Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes," Mrs. Hughes answered immediately, a smile spreading across her face.

Mr. Carson drew her into his arms and kissed her again until they were both breathless. They then stood together, foreheads touching, and Mrs. Hughes chuckled softly.

"What's so funny?" Mr. Carson asked.

"When I read your last letter I wondered if I might eventually be successful at talking you into retirement," she murmured.

"I'd say you've succeeded entirely, Elsie," he said and leaned in for another kiss.

#####

"They're in there together, then?" Mrs. Patmore whispered to Lady Mary, as they stood in the doorway of Mrs. Hughes's sitting room.

"They are," Lady Mary responded evenly.

"I wonder how long they'll be," the cook said. "Could you tell whether anything had happened by the time you got there? Any big announcement?"

"Well, we'll have to wait and see when it comes to big announcements," Lady Mary said with a little smile. "But as far as anything happening, well… it was already happening when I walked through the door. They didn't even know I was in the room until I spoke."

Mrs. Patmore's mouth dropped open in shock. "Well, I never!"

"No, nor I!" Lady Mary said, trying not to giggle.

"I do hope you won't tell Mr. Carson that I allowed you to stand on that chair in his pantry," Mrs. Patmore said.

"I was perfectly safe with you holding the chair, Mrs. Patmore. And you said it yourself: who else could be trusted to keep a secret, would like to do Carson a good turn, and was tall enough to hang a sprig of mistletoe in his pantry?"

"Somehow I don't think that would be much comfort to Mr. Carson."

"I promised I wouldn't tell, didn't I? Now I wish more than anything that I could be here when that pantry door opens next, but I'm afraid I must go back upstairs. You'll keep me informed, won't you?"

"Of course, milady," Mrs. Patmore said cheerfully. "And thank you so much for your help. And the poor undergardener's, of course."

"Oh, did I tell you what he said?"

"The undergardener? No, why?"

"He couldn't find any mistletoe at such short notice, and in July, so I told him to make something up that would look like it. Tie a red ribbon round it and the like."

"Not even real mistletoe, then," Mrs. Patmore mused. "Well, it sounds like it was rather a smashing success."

Lady Mary raised her eyebrows and stifled a giggle again. "Indeed," she agreed, and hurried up the stairs.

Mrs. Patmore smiled and headed back into the kitchen. She had her work to do, but she would make very sure to stay where she would have a good view of the door to the butler's pantry. Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes would have to emerge eventually, and she intended to be there to see it.

_The End._


End file.
